


Symmetrical Asymmetry

by mirqueen



Category: The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest
Genre: Angst, Drama, Family, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirqueen/pseuds/mirqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonny Quest always wanted to be just like his hero. He was seven when he realized he could never become what he believed his dad to be. But Benton is now living a lie and Jonny is slowly becoming the kind of man he never thought he could be. (AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Left Behind

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make any profit off of _Jonny Quest_ , _The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest_ , or _The Matrix_ , which are the property of Hannah Barbara/Cartoon Network and The Wachowski Bros./Warner Bros., respectively. The Iverson Assembly, Garman the scientist, and Sanjana are all products of my own imagination. Also, the seating capacity and all physical descriptions of Sacred Heart Church are fabricated.

A/N: I started writing a one-shot about Benton’s wedding and then in the middle of it I realized I had a couple of ways I could go with it. So this is the second of two story-lines based on the same basic plot. I do not have any factual support for any medical ideas mentioned herein.

> **Chapter 1: Left Behind**

There were just too many people milling around the expanse of stone and wood; about four-hundred-and-seventy-eight, to be exact. Far too many for a building which normally housed a congregation of approximately two hundred people. There were even two high-definition screens for the overflow crowd; one located in the fellowship hall and the other in the largest practice room to be had. Why it was necessary to put this spectacle on big screens for a couple hundred people that didn’t really even know the bride and groom… well, that was entirely beyond the comprehension of some. Nevertheless, it was all set up and ready to go for the enormous mass of people gathered at Sacred Heart Church in Waterville, Maine.

Ironically, a head of messy, dirty-blond hair was more obvious in the large crowd than expected and against all odds the young man who owned said hair felt himself fighting a never-ending stream of well-wishers. Despite his dearest wish to get away, Jonny Quest felt hands reaching out from everywhere, grabbing his hand as if it were a water pump in the middle of the Sahara. He tugged at the increasingly uncomfortable collar of his tuxedo as casually as he could, but he still drew a disapproving glance from some stiff-backed society woman that he had never even met.

The twenty-six-year-old’s head felt fit to burst from all the commotion ringing in his ears. The pale-haired youth was out of his element. At home, Jonathan Quest could be himself, which ultimately meant that his witty, people-saving, comical, never-fear attitude was firmly in place and never out of style. Unfortunately this was not home and even if it was, it would currently be invaded by so many government officials and celebrities and wanna-be-famous-scientists that he would be overwhelmed. Never mind that he was quickly becoming renowned for his ‘technological mastermind’ as Race had so laughingly put it.

As the young blond-haired daredevil that the public was so familiar with, he may be able to charm an alligator out of its skin, but right now he was not simply in the role of ‘Jonny Quest: Adventurer’, he was Jonathan Benton Quest, son and groomsman and temporary non-comic. This entire hullabaloo was his dad’s arena, not his.

Then again, his dad apparently had totally and completely sold out his brains in order to marry the woman that was currently in the sanctuary’s main anteroom getting ready to walk down the aisle. Not that Jonny was _extremely_ upset about it. Admittedly, Jonny wasn’t very close to his future stepmother, not even as much as he had been in the first few weeks he’d known her in the Czech Republic as a teenager. Alena had become distinctly less intellectual since ending her term as president. No matter, Jonny was willing to accept that his dad looked happy. He could be pleased that Alena and his dad had finally passed ‘Go’ and were actually collecting the two-hundred dollars. Jonny was not upset about there being a wedding. But the idea that his dad thought him the perfect host to take up the four-hundred-plus reception crowd which was mosying everywhere from the sanctuary out to the entrance drive? Now _that_ was upsetting. Sure, he was ok with talking his head off, but not _this_ much and not with _these_ people.

Actually, Jonny was beginning to wonder just why his dad had agreed to such a fussy, peculiar, and inelegant ceremony and reception. All this stylistic mumbo-jumbo was an increasingly similar look to what Jonny knew of Jade’s idea of beauty (as in: wild and untamed). For being a black-tie event, his dad’s wedding looked awfully informal (then again, the black-tie bit only applied to the ‘dress code’ that Alena had required, not the decorations). Benton Quest may follow the fantastical in his research, but _this_? Just as he thought of the incredibly bizarre decorations, some strange flower-that-looked-like-an-alien caught Jonny’s lapel and refused to let go. Covertly as possible, the young man picked the offending foliage from its stem in order to free it from at least one end and then set it inside as if it naturally grew from the middle of the combined stems.

What really made his day twenty times worse was the fact that Jessie was off somewhere in the sprawling mass playing up the perfect hostess, taking up the role with him because she knew he hated to do this. She was always doing that, ever since he could remember, but it still didn’t make him feel a lot better. He’d rather be standing _with_ her and making attempts at civil conversation than standing there with _out_ her and being stared at because his gas tank of conversation had run on empty about fifteen minutes in.

Somehow, Jonny should have known that he would be left on his own to face the music. The Wedding march was only going to be a small B-Section of the larger symphony.

Irina Kafka, lately returned from an international tour, would likely appreciate that sentiment if she had one ounce of brains left in her head after getting swept away by fame and fortune. The brunette pianist had been constantly encroaching on his personal space without his consent for the last week. It was a frequent thing whenever she visited the compound with Alena. Yes, he had flirted when they were about fourteen and once (when he was fifteen) they had dated very lightly for about a month, but honestly, wasn’t twelve years enough time to realize that he was not interested anymore?

Consequently, Jessie had forcefully pulled the pianist away from him a half-hour ago and as far into the crowd as possible; introducing her to all the people that Jessie _knew_ would talk for long periods on the exact subjects that interested Irina. It was a lucky thing because if he had been made to listen to one more ditzy comment about luxuriant hotels, posh ballrooms, and Irina’s unsurpassed skill he would have strangled her with his bare hands. He was rather disappointed that the previously intelligent teenager had turned into such a vain peacock.

Ah well, at least he had Jessie for a friend. He really loved having a woman as his best friend. It made women-related issues so much simpler when he had a woman’s intuition to help him decipher what women were really telling him. Granted, most people believed they were more than best friends, but the old adage “just good friends” had been tried and tested on them during their senior year of high school and freshman year of college and it had never been truer.

At any rate, Irina’s forward flirting was one reason Benton had not asked Jonny to be his best man. Jonny wanted to walk with someone else at all costs. Alena refused to have anyone but Irina as her Maiden of Honor. Walking with Irina was simply out of the question as far as Jonny was concerned and so Benton asked Race. Catching Irina’s eye once, when she had just arrived at the church, only served to convince Jonny that his dad had made the right choice.

Then there was Hadji and his wife Sanjana; the two caused a stir amongst the masses an hour ago merely by name and association to the Quest family. Of course, the actions of a certain Sultan in India improving Bangalore were renowned and realizing he was the same Sultan being blared across some international headlines has endeared him to a number of what Jonny _kindly_ labeled as the ‘Welfare Celebrities’ of the world, since the only time they seemed to be famous was when they lost money. They constantly sidled up to truly rich and famous people, hoping either to become famous then rich or simply rich right off the bat. ‘Moochers International’ was another fitting term he had labeled them with, among a rather large list of terms written about a week ago in his frustration, before Jessie had calmly removed the paper from his work desk and pushed a faulty piece of their new Questworld security software under his nose for inspection. He’d still been thinking up names, though, and the following morning he’d shown her an equally long list which she promptly threw into the fireplace (after reading it, of course). Then he’d been asked (begged) to help sort out the wedding and reception invitation list with his dad while Alena, Irina, and Jade went out shopping. The day had grown steadily worse after Jonny accidentally let slip one of his ‘terms’ to his dad, in an effort to convince him to eliminate some of the more notorious offenders of ‘Moochers’ from the invites.

Benton wasn’t typically so hard on him, even as a reckless teen (well he was still reckless sometimes, but that wasn’t the point.) Seeing his dad so upset about something he normally would have laughed off as truth made his only son realize just how off-kilter and preoccupied the man was about all of this. Jonny had not spoken to his dad since then except to say ‘hey’ on the rare occasion that his dad was _not_ focused on the bride-to-be; he merely waited for the moment when he was to stand as a groomsman between Hadji and Race. A week without talking to his dad was depressing, but he knew that his comic responses were not helping the doctor’s nerves any.

To put icing on the proverbial cake, there was the appearance of Jade, whom Race had somehow convinced to settle down and marry him several years back. (Jonny figured her ship had sunk and she was finished with her illegal businesses anyhow.) Jessie was clearly _not_ happy with that (he’d known that would happen of course), as that meant that Jade was in the wedding.

There was appreciation all around that Benton wasn’t fully immersed in a preparation stupor, or else they would have had a very big problem with Jessie and Jade walking so near to each other. Race would walk with Irina as Best Man and Maiden of Honor, respectively. Jessie and Jonny were next, followed by Hadji and Sanjana. Jade and Pasha would end the line.

Jade and Jessie were kept apart only by providence, as far as Jonny was concerned. Hadji could try his calming routine all day long, but he would not be able hold Jessie back if Jade uttered one word out of line, as she normally did. And for all that she was the wife of a Sultan, Sanjana would not forget her free upbringing out in the wilds of India. She was almost as fiery as Jessie when her friends were offended and would be more likely to help than hinder.

Alena was (as yet) not privy to the explanations of Jessie’s hostility toward Jade. And Jade was strangely not very forthcoming about it either. To top that off, oddly enough Alena had taken a liking to Jade and dislike to Estella, Jessie’s mom.

Incidentally, Jonny had not exactly disliked Jade the first few years he had known her either. But now he seriously couldn’t see how Jade’s personality would win out over Estella’s. Jessie’s mom was honest and didn’t push herself on anybody, whereas Jade never seemed to get the memo under any circumstances. Not to mention she was cocky, vain, and a downright bit—Jonny stopped his wandering mind immediately. Wow, Jessie _really_ needed to stop saying those things to him. He was getting in a bad habit of saying them at the most inopportune times. Just the same, Jonny knew it was true and happened to enjoy Estella’s company any day over Jade’s. Perhaps it was partly the fact that he had grown up and could hold an adult conversation now.

Benton _had_ confided in Jonny only a day or so prior, that after raising Irina (who was not even her own child) Alena seemed to have taken offense at the fact that Estella had not spent every waking moment with her own daughter. The blond-haired young man couldn’t really see how that was any of Alena’s business, much as he was willing to try and accept her in his dad’s life. Especially since Jessie, the victim of this supposed ‘crime of motherhood’ as Alena had apparently described it to his father, had forgiven Estella and was closer to her mother than anybody (with the exception of Jonny).

Now, it was a plain fact that Benton considered Estella a friend and shared a common interest in science, history, and exploration with her. It was another, doubly-plain fact that she was not to be left out of the invitations or everyone would be running from a very angry Jessie Bannon, a mildly disappointed Benton Quest, and a snappish Jonny Quest. (Who wouldn’t be snappish, after working with Hadji to calm Jessie as much as possible?). Even Alena had seemed to take the hint about that (reluctantly and with a certain amount of condescension that Jonny thought was really very unsuited to the situation), especially after Jessie had blurted out the fact that, ironically, an unconscious Alena had been saved by none other than Estella and her archaeological team when her plane crashed over Brazil four years ago. Talk about coincidences…

Alena had not, apparently, taken the hint that an invitation also meant being treated civilly by the bride and her guests (Maybe she was taking lessons from Jade?). At least, that’s what Jessie’s face was telling him from the other side of the crowd (and what she had been spouting about yesterday). He couldn’t especially see her features clearly at this distance nor could he see what her eyes were settled on, but he could sense when she was displeased. Right now he could almost _feel_ her indignation and simmering fury. It was just something that developed between them after being in so many tight situations.

Jonny looked around to find his dad instead and caught sight of him fairly near. (The sighting was not difficult considering the color and design of tie he’d been finagled into wearing this morning.) He looked happy enough to the young man’s eyes, but the groom’s brows were furrowed just the same. Frowning mildly, Jonny followed his dad’s concerned line of sight and found his eyes landing upon on a lonely-looking Estella Velasquez. Irritation made a blazing trail through the young adventurer’s mind. Was it so difficult to be nice to the woman? Unless there was someone threatening Jessie, Estella was friendly and highly intelligent. Jonny believed that most of Jessie’s smarts came from her mom, not Race. The former marine was more based in instinct than intellectual capacity. Not to say that the guy wasn’t smart, but it wasn’t at the forefront of his personality to be exceptionally brainy like Jess was. No, that definitely was a trait learned from her mother.

When he looked back at Benton, Jonny could see that whatever conversation had been pushed on his dad at that moment didn’t have his attention at all. With a feeling that his dad needed a little picking up, but knowing Alena would be royally ticked if it was anyone but herself, Hadji, or Jonny that did so, the blond youth walked the short distance to his dad’s side and fairly dragged him away from the clutches of a familiar hot-headed researcher and two supposedly-undercover officials from the CIA that didn’t seem to have learned the meaning of ‘subtlety’ yet. What did they think this was, anyway? A secret convention for mad scientists? It was a _wedding_ , for crying out loud.

"Thank you," Dr. Quest exhaled quietly, speaking in exasperated undertones to his son as they walked away. "I think Garman was going to ask me to give a speech on legalizing experimentation at the Iverson Assembly. You know how much I detest his idea of _lab work_.”

"Oh, I don’t know," Jonny couldn’t help snorting as he glanced back at the Agent Smith copycats standing next to the brown-haired researcher. "Maybe you should have agreed and then let the guys in the specs leave with something other than a ‘thank you’ card."

The elder Quest glanced back as inconspicuously as possible, chuckling quietly as he faced forward again.

"At least they aren’t the jumpy type that I remember," he confided in his son even quieter, turning serious. "Before Race came into our lives, when you were still small, I didn’t dare let you out of my sight. I was afraid you were going to end up shot whenever you did something unexpected. Some of the early agents they sent to watch over me and my work were inexplicably trigger-happy."

Jonny’s curious look prompted Benton to pull him away from the crowd and into one of the smallest anterooms that was, mercifully, unoccupied and shut the door behind them.

Father and son let out a relieved sigh and gladly settled into two of the four wing-backed chairs in front of a set of ceiling-high bookshelves. This room was cooler than the others and Jonny wished he could loosen his tie a little. Despite his tie, the the younger Quest sent his dad a look that said ‘Well?’ and arranged himself more comfortably in his seat.

"One time," the redheaded doctor began his story with a resigned sigh, "just after your mother died, they’d sent agent Dylan Moss to the compound. He had a nervous temperament to begin with… so much so that I wondered why he even hired into such a nerve-racking occupation. The first night he was there, he had me up discussing the new and old security measures long past the usual hours I kept. You clearly woke up before I did the next morning and decided to get breakfast on your own. Somehow you reached the top shelf for one of the ceramics, but you likely grabbed more than one. Obviously it was too heavy for you, considering you were only four. Moss claimed that he thought the crash was an intruder breaking through the windows."

"I don’t see why he thought he should start firing immediately," Benton’s tone was distinctly bitter. "I also thought it was an intruder when I heard him shooting like that, but then I went to get you and found you weren’t in your room… You weren’t shot thankfully, but he just missed you by inches and it scared you half to death."

"I never knew that," Jonny was stunned. No wonder his dad had an issue with guns. "I don’t even _remember_ it.”

"As a part of your mental defenses," Dr. Quest sounded a little more like his old self at that moment, "your mind probably blocked it. It was too frightening and you closed off the memory out of self-preservation. It’s common enough in a situation like that."

"Wow," the young man shook his head in amazement. "I know they hire these nutcases often enough to have a special department for the ones that go wrong, but that’s totally off the deep end, Dad."

"There are a lot of ridiculous things out there," Benton relied wearily with one of those age-old bits of wisdom that he usually preferred, but somehow that particular piece seemed to slap him in the face when he thought of this unnecessarily elaborate event that Alena had insisted on for today. Nonetheless, the doctor decided that he wouldn’t bother over it. Little enough had happened of this magnitude in his life since Jonny was born. Besides, it was the first time for Alena. He supposed she had the right to do it the way she wanted.

Silence descended upon father and son for several moments and Benton’s mind wandered peacefully for the most part. Jonny, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to get his brain to slow down all of a sudden. Nothing about today had felt right to him and now that he had his dad alone, he planned to see if they could pinpoint exactly what troubled him. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a smart enough idea as to what it was, it just seemed better to clear the air before his dad went away for a solid two months.

"Dad?" Jonny’s voice made Benton look up with a questioning expression, only to find the younger Quest gazing at the nearest grouping of books without seeing them, brows furrowed in consternation.

"Yes?" the bearded scientist verbally acknowledged the young man after a beat, not recognizing the look on his son’s face.

"Why?" his son’s voice held curiosity, but also something else beneath that which Benton was unable to identify. Strange that he wasn’t able to read Jonathan very well anymore…

"What do you mean?" Benton queried after a short pause.

"Why marry Alena?" Jonny felt mildly uncomfortable questioning his dad on this, but it was driving him up a wall. The two hadn’t shown any romantic interest since she’d begun coming around. The only reason the young man had been expecting a wedding was because Alena had frequently mentioned the possibility.

Dr. Quest thought on it for a long moment, warring within himself as to whether or not he should tell his son the truth or tell him what most people wanted to hear. Jonny was always an accepting person, however, so he decided on the truth.

"Honestly?" the elder Quest’s quiet query was hesitant he glanced over to his son. "We were both lonely."

"You were lonely?" Jonny’s tone was full of disbelief and the slightest confusion.

Benton looked exceedingly unrepentant as he shrugged a little, but Jonny needed to get this straight in his head. Marrying the woman in an hour and he didn’t even love her? He’d always admired his dad’s sense of right and wrong; now his admiration was tumbling around him.

"You’re supposed to _marry_ this woman!” Jonny emphasized the word ‘marry’ emphatically. “In. An. _Hour_. You know…till death do you part? To love, honor, cherish, and all that?”

"I think I remember the vows, Jonathan," Benton’s voice rang with distinct irritation. "That isn’t the problem here."

"Then what the _hell_ is?” Jonny didn’t normally swear and especially not that loud or in front of his dad, but his dad needed a serious wake up call.

"Jonathan." The warning in his father’s voice went unheeded as the young man continued, turning his back on the doctor.

“ _God._ " Jonny’s voice was incredulous. He began throwing disbelieving looks to the heavens, pacing, and ranting aloud, not necessarily to his dad or even anybody in particular; just blowing steam because he’d gotten what he considered to be the shock of his life. "You think your dad is full of wisdom and common sense because he’s been around longer than you have… You take for granted the fact that you’ll never have to bail him out of anything, at least where the heart is concerned, because he’s older and he’s always known better and he’s been through it before. And then he goes and pulls a stunt like this!"

"Do you even know," this part was directed straight at Benton when Jonny suddenly swung back around to face the elder Quest, matching the simmering look on Benton’s face with a smoldering face of his own, "just how much trouble you’ve gotten yourself into? I’ll admit that Alena isn’t exactly a romantic. She may even have gone a little cuckoo in some respects after so many talks with Jade, but she’s not entirely _stupid_. She’s not gonna forgive you for this!”

By this point, Dr. Quest was gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles looked translucent.

"Jonathan, what do _you_ really know about her? About her feelings? Her goals?” Benton countered crossly, ignoring his own lack of real knowledge in that same area. “Imagine how she’s likely to feel if I back out now!”

A gentle knock on the door interrupted the steadily-worsening conversation, startling both men to stare at the door in apprehension despite their still-fierce stance and countenance. Benton composed himself as best he could, brushing imaginary wrinkles out of his tuxedo jacket as he stood from his seat. “Come in.”

Jonny began fiddling with the edge of his sleeve, a habit of nerves that Benton happened to recognize by some luck. Benton almost felt guilty, but he also felt too frustrated to let the guilt keep his thoughts in check.

The dark paneled door opened quietly and somewhat hesitantly to reveal Estella, who had obviously changed into more formal attire than she had been wearing when they’d seen her almost twenty minutes ago. If Jonny wasn’t so tightly wound, he would have flattered her on the flowing sage-colored dress that complimented her tanned skin, fiery hair, and dark green eyes to perfection. As it was, the tension in the room was palpable, nearly breathable, to someone who knew Benton and Jonny well enough. Estella certainly knew them well enough and she was concerned that the very close father-son relationship between these two was falling apart. The archaeologist had a very good idea why that might be occurring, unfortunately.

"I’m sorry to interrupt," Estella kept her thoughts to herself as he stepped over to stand nearly in-between the two men, in hopes of preventing further argument at the moment, "Jessie asked me to help find the two of you. Alena is almost ready. Jessie estimated another twenty or so minutes."

Estella, too, noticed Jonny’s familiar little habit of a sudden. The redhead casually reached over to stop the nervous habit with a gentle tug on his fingers. It worked like a charm. Benton found himself a bit surprised. No one had ever been able to quell Jonny’s habits like that. The younger Quest usually was so restless that he had to be doing _something_ , but he simply stopped upon her light reminder.

"We’ll be in," Jonny spoke up, at the very least _attempting_ to sound completely truthful. “Just need to discuss a little something before we go.”

"All right," Estella looked doubtful, inquisitive, and resigned all at the same time.

Jonny did, however, avoid the woman’s gaze. A piercing look graced Estella’s features at this, but she merely reached up and straightened the tie which Jonny hadn’t remembered loosening.

"We won’t be long," Benton added, meaning every word he spoke as he watched the unusual interaction between his son and Estella.

She didn’t say anything else, but left the situation in their hands with no little amount of doubt. Jonny looked up at the last minute, just as the door swung shut behind her.

"That was a lie," Benton accused his son. "There’s nothing more for us to discuss, Jonathan."

"I didn’t lie," the twenty-one-year-old responded flatly, refusing to show the mild hurt he felt at his father’s accusation. "The only discussion that I was hoping for is you telling Alena the truth."

"Who do you think you are?" Benton was unusually hot-headed. "You’re my son, not my master. _I’ll_ decide what I’m going to do about this. Thank you for your opinion, although it wasn’t necessary. You can’t just waltz up and try to change things to your liking. I have to admit, Jonathan, this is rather disappointing.”

If Jonny felt any particular way about this, he hid it well. The elder Quest wondered just when his only child had acquired the ability to hide his emotions so well. Jonny’s mindset had always been as easy to understand as Benton’s own.

Sometime during his wondering, the bearded scientist came to the startling conclusion that he didn’t know Jonny as well as he thought he did. He had assumed that this was the same boy that made death-defying leaps of faith, tried out the latest (and most dangerous) stunts, and provoked criminals without flinching. The doctor had assumed that the youthful exuberance and genuine honesty in his son would never be dampened by anything or anyone. And yet here was that same boy hiding his feelings beneath a layer of indifference and assuming he could direct his father because he felt left behind.

Jonny felt anything but indifferent on the inside, but feeling left behind was not so far a stretch. The young man had looked up to his father for as long as he could remember. He’d wanted to be like him more than anything; wanted to make him _proud_ more than anything. It was at the age of about seven that he knew he just couldn’t be like his dad. They were different and that was the end of that. He thought he could at least make him proud and for the nine years following that, he believed he was succeeding. But the man that had been his hero since his birth was pushing him away and told him point-blank that he was a disappointment… and it _hurt_. It hurt more than he ever thought it would. It felt like his dad had just sucker-punched him straight in the guts. He was having a hard time breathing properly and his eyes were burning fiercely. Unconsciously, the young man clenched his fists tightly. Jonny desperately wanted his dad take back his words. They were so hard and unforgiving.

"Dad."

His only child’s hushed voice was as close to pleading as Dr. Quest had heard it in almost five years. “I’m marrying her, Jonathan.”

Benton did not even make an attempt to see the real reason his son was pleading with him. He didn’t know if he could forgive the accusations spoken between them today. The elder Quest walked over to the door without a word.

The continued use of his full first name stung and Jonny closed his eyes, fearing what he already knew had taken place. He wished he had just shut his mouth. Was his relationship with his dad worth losing like this?

"Please, Dad." Jonny opened his eyes and stepped nearer, feeling a panic overtake him as his father turned the handle of the door. If his dad walked out now, it was over. "I… I’m—"

"I have to go," Benton forced the words through clenched teeth as he opened the door and stepped out. He didn’t look back at his son when he pulled the door shut behind him.

Something in Jonny cracked the moment the door clicked shut. This was more than delaying the conversation. Benton was shutting him out.

And he wasn’t going to let him back in…

Jonny stood frozen to his spot for some time, replaying that last moment with his dad in his mind. At last, he blindly reached up to unbutton his collar and remove his tie and jacket before heading towards the door himself. He didn’t care that he left the jacket and tie behind on the chair; he’d hated them anyway.

When he opened the paneled barrier between himself and the outside world, Jonny could hear the wedding march sounding over the out-of-date P.A. system. Coming around the only corner that barred his view of the main hall, Jonny could see the tail end of Alena’s insanely long silk train as she walked into the sanctuary to meet Benton at the altar. With a sigh of relief mixed with sadness, the blond-haired twenty-six-year-old made his way toward the entrance. Or exit, as it were. Blue eyes filled with unshed tears, Jonny left the church and made the way to his car; he was heading home before anyone could follow him.

The Quest Compound never felt as lonely as when Jonny pulled in the drive. After getting out of the car, every step toward the house was sluggish; he had no real reason to rush. Besides, he wanted to spend time in his childhood home before the newlyweds returned later that day. He certainly didn’t want to be there when they did and so made his way more swiftly up to his room, to pack everything he owned and change into less constricting clothing.

His sea blue sweater and thick gray coat felt slightly warm, but in spite of how beautiful the current weather was, Jonny knew all too well how cold it might be on a New England night in April.

Thanks to Jessie’s previous organizational excursion in the room, he was done packing in only an hour-and-a-half. Once his things were waiting in the trunk of the car, he dragged himself back inside with one last purpose.

The younger Quest absently walked into Benton’s study, where everything was in pristine order as always. The photographs on the dark walls seemed as though they had never been moved or gathered a speck of dust since time began. They were almost _too_ perfect. Looking at the photos in their plain black frames upon the forbidding oaken desk caused Jonny to feel a sharp pang of discomfort when he realized that none featured his mom. In all truth the blue-eyed world traveler hadn’t been in this room since he was about eighteen, but he could have sworn to seeing photos of his mom sitting around back then.

Rachel Quest deserved to at least be represented in a family photo, if nothing else. Even if Benton had wanted to put Alena first now (whether he loved her or not) and not dwell on the past, there was no reason not to acknowledge Rachel as a part of the doctor’s history. She was the woman who loved him, married him, and had a son with him, after all. There were more than enough pictures to choose from, as Jonny well knew. The woman may have died only a couple of years after Jonny was born, but there were no end of photos taken during that short time that she dated and was married to Benton Quest. Benton had never neglected to show them to Jonny when he was younger. Frustrated by the lack of consideration, the young man left the study and headed up to where the family albums were stored.

The first photo he took was one that beheld a very young Rachel Quest sitting up in a hospital bed, holding her newborn son in her arms. Benton leaned over them with the biggest smile Jonny had ever seen on his face.

The second photo was more recent than the first; having been taken when Jonny was about six years old. It was one the first few times that Race had brought Jessie over after the divorce. Jessie was sitting with Jonny on the ground in front of their dads. His dad and Race both looked pleased that their children were already such good friends. Hadji stood next to Benton, while Bandit was (for once) sitting quite calmly in Jonny’s lap.

Everyone seemed happy in both pictures and that’s exactly how Jonny wanted to remember them. He had no intention of staying at the compound after what had transpired with Benton, even if he had no idea where to go. Nothing would be fixed there and it would never be a happy place for him now. The only thing missing now from his family portrait was Estella. Jessie’s room was generally a restricted zone, even for him, but he went in anyway to find a good selection of pictures in her photo album. There was one in South America that was far enough back that Jessie’s features weren’t clouded with upset over Race’s marriage and in which Estella looked almost as young as her redheaded daughter and practically as happy. That was the one he took.

Sighing heavily, Jonny sat at Jessie’s desk to make use of her simple, standard stationary. Only a couple of things seemed adequate to explain what was happening to him.

_Hey guys,_

_I guess this is really it. I’m going. Not going away for a little while in order to clear my head for the hundredth time. This is permanent. I can’t come back to what little is left of the family I used to know._

_Hadji, believe me, blood isn’t always thicker. You’re my brother, through and through, even though we can’t spend as much time anymore. Responsibilities are a pain sometimes… You and Sanjana make an amazing pair to rule Bangalore. Tell Neela she’s wonderful, as always._

_Race, I’m grateful you were there through everything. I don’t like how you’ve treated Jessie in recent years, but you weren’t always that way._

_Dad, I don’t know how it happened, but we lost whatever bond there was between us. I’m sorry I disappointed you. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough. Be happy, okay? You deserve it after spending this long alone._

_Jess, I’m sorry for leaving you alone like this, but I can’t stay. There’s no place here for me anymore. You’re the best friend I have and the one person who didn’t go changing on me. Tell Estella she’s the best. I’ll miss you both, Ace._

_Jonny_

The twenty-six-year-old couldn’t help his eyes welling up with tears (though he wouldn’t let them fall), as he sealed his letter in an envelope. All the happy memories he had in this house rushed up to meet him with every breath he took.

He hoped Jess didn’t get too mad that she was left alone, but also knew that his best friend would understand better than anyone how he was feeling. Yet, he still felt like a failure in some ways for leaving this huge mess on her shoulders.

"Sorry, Ace," Jonny murmured with a small, sad smile in memory of his best friend. "I’m not such a hot-shot anymore."

"Is that so?" That oh-so-familiar voice startled Jonny from his thoughts. He whipped around to find none other than Jessie Bannon standing in the doorway with a hand placed imperiously up on her indigo-clad hip. "Then how exactly did you manage to make life ten times more interesting today?"

"Jess." Jonny stood with surprise, reaching out to pull her into a tight hug in absent ignorance of her easily-wrinkled gown. "What happened? I thought you’d be at the wedding still."

"You honestly believe I’d go through that without you there?" The redhead rolled her eyes as she pulled back from him, also taking his letter into her own hands. "I’m not stupid. Besides, Alena would have freaked out if I’d walked alone. Might have ruined her ‘symmetrical asymmetry’ or whatever the hell she called it. Now, let me be the one to explain this letter to everybody. And what are you doing here still? Aren’t you going someplace far, far away or something?"

"Yeah." Jonny reached for his cuff, fiddling with it again in his anxiety. "About that. If you don’t think I should go…"

"Of _course_ you should!” she exclaimed with an incredulous expression, leaning back to look directly into his blue eyes. “This is the one, very rare, time in which _you_ will have to be the wise one between you and your dad. If you don’t go, this family situation is only to go from bad to worse.”

"Isn’t it already worse?" the younger Quest sighed sadly. "I’ve pushed him too far."

"For God’s sake, Jonny," Jessie sighed in deep annoyance, flicking a lock of her flaming tresses over her shoulder. "Your dad needed to hear the truth, okay? I’m sorry it had to end up like this for him to see sense, but there you have it. Now come on, you need to go and start fresh. Preferably with someone you trust not to flip out like Benton has."

"Who were you thinking of?" Jonny asked resignedly, no one coming to mind except for the girl at his side. "I don’t trust anyone but you anymore."

"You don’t trust my mom?" Jessie snapped an eyebrow up towards her hairline in disbelief.

"Well…" Jonny didn’t know what to say in the least, reaching anxiously for his cuff again. "Yeah, but—"

"Okay…" Jessie dipped her head to side while prompting him as if he were a very small child, "so, you go live with her until you figure out what exactly you’re going to do after this. That would be a big improvement on you being stuck _here_ until you rot. Right?”

"Jess I know you’re trying to help," Jonny denied the idea with a negative shake of his head, "but I think I need to go off alone for a little while. Just to sort through it all."

"You could do that if you lived with her," Jessie pointed out persistently, "just as well as on your own."

"I’m not just going to bounce back into something steady, Jess," Jonny insisted just as strongly. "If I live with Estella, I’ll want to seem normal, so she won’t worry about me. That’s not going to help me figure everything out at first. I promise she’ll be the first person I call if I need a place to stay. All right?"

"Fine," Jessie sighed in resignation, throwing her hands up into the air, "But you’d better call me whenever and wherever you do settle for a while. I’m not going to sit patiently if I’m worried about you."

"It’s a deal, Ace" Jonny grinned half-heartedly, but it got a small grin from Jessie as well.

"Deal, Hot-Shot," she retorted rapidly. "Good luck. I’ll miss you."

"Miss you too." Jonny offered a second hug before heading out of the house, into his car, and proceeding to drive away from the Quest Compound of Rockport, Maine; for what was presumably the rest of his life.

* * *

 


	2. Time

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make any profit off of _Jonny Quest_ , _The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest_ , or _The Matrix_ , which are the property of Hannah Barbara/Cartoon Network and The Wachowski Bros./Warner Bros., respectively. The Iverson Assembly, Garman the scientist, and Sanjana are all products of my own imagination. Additionally, I do not own Stonewall Farm Bed & Breakfast or Sacred Heart Church, but Ryan, Daniel, and Naomi came straight from my own head and the seating capacity/all physical descriptions of Sacred Heart Church are fabricated. 

A/N: I started writing a one-shot about Benton’s wedding and then in the middle of it I realized I had a couple of ways I could go with it. So this is the second of two story-lines based on the same basic plot. I do not have any factual support for any medical ideas mentioned herein.

Descriptions/information on the bed and breakfast are mostly of my own making. I’m pretty sure the actual bed and breakfast is much more savvy than my fictional one. It has five bedrooms, but I couldn’t find the name of the fifth room so I created one (Dewhurst).

> **Chapter 2: Time**

There was only vague recognition in Jonny’s eyes as he traveled through city after city, having absolutely no idea where he was going or what he was doing. Waldoboro, Wiscasset, Bath, Brunswick, Yarmouth, Portland, Saco, Kennebunk… Even then, he’d detoured from Saco over to Springvale and _then_ over to Kennebunk, just because it seemed a unique way to reach North Berwick and then the border.

Every mile marker that passed Jonny on his new path offered both a sense of freedom and a feeling of dread that he could neither shake off nor separate from each other. The two mixed together so deeply that they seemed to create their own feeling as he traversed any road but the expressway. The blond-haired adventurer’s only reason for not giving into his emotions was the note that Jessie had sneakily left in his pocket when she hugged him. At least, he had not noticed it being there before that moment. Distracted though he was at the church, he expected that it would have been easy to feel a note crunching in his pocket. The words of the message were metaphorically worn from his eyes gazing over and over them, if not faded in actual print from running his fingers over it in silent appreciation when he felt a little lost.

_Waiting for your phone call, Hot-Shot._ _  
_Don’t be a stranger and please, please_ _call mom if you need anything!_ _

_She’s counting on it._

_Love, Jess_

_P.S. – The loft is a little careworn, but fairly livable._

On the opposite side of the country from both Maine and Florida, Estella Velasquez’s loft had been her getaway whenever Jessie visited the compound with Race and archaeological work was exceptionally slow. Except for Jessie and Jonny, no one knew about the little place, which was perfect for the young man’s needs at the present time. No one would come banging on the door, wondering if Estella knew where Jonathan Benton Quest had run off to. No one would come asking why Jonny had avoided his father’s extravagant and highly-publicized second wedding. Nor why he had failed to deliver a heartfelt speech at the equally extravagant and highly-publicized reception, to bless the union of his father and stepmother – the most brilliant scientific mind of the last thirty years and the rising starlet of social politics, respectively. Guilt plagued Jonny’s senses as he thought about the latter, though it was harshly restrained by a formidable feeling of righteousness and hurt. Vague acceptance might not have been amiss, but the entire wedding (hell, the whole interlude between Benton and Alena for the past few years) just seemed to be wrong in oh-so-many ways when Jonny really thought about it. How could his father even _hope_ to make the relationship work if there was no love between them? But such thoughts made Jonny’s head pound and it took little self-persuasion to stop thinking about it for a while.

Approaching Somersworth, New Hampshire, with a decidedly unhappy air, Jonny reluctantly stopped for gas. Briefly, he wondered about heading right up to Skyhaven Airport and taking a plane across the country to the loft. It would shorten the trip and his new life, such as it was, could start as soon as possible. Feeling lost and confused about the direction of his entire life, however, he swiftly decided to continue on via the highway. If there was anything the young adventurer needed so vitally, so assuredly… it was _time_.

Time to plan, for one thing. Time to consider all his options in a level-headed and patient way, for another. More than anything, Jonny could only say that he needed time to heal. Sitting around a loft where he had no company, no purpose, and no roots was painful enough without adding in the loss of the one person who had always seemed to be his greatest supporter.

Somewhere along the way through Newmarket, Jonny came to the heavy conclusion that he must think long and hard over the ramifications of everything he was contemplating. Emotional whiplash had taken a firm hold of him in the silent car ride. Sure, it had seemed great while Jess was being so supportive, but what would it feel like to finally settle in a new place and walk away from his family – blood or otherwise – to be totally alone? Oh, he was used to isolation; had come to understand it quite well, up until Race Bannon had arrived on their doorstep so many years prior. But this was different because while he had been alone so often in his early youth, it was a mutual isolation with his father. Now, in this moment, Jonny could see the drastic difference between the two situations and he had to admit that it frightened him immensely. Even though he and Benton had kept to themselves enough to be considered emotional hermits, as a rule Jonathan had never been alone like this before. His father had always been his fail-safe.

Shouldn’t he, Jonny, have waited to leave until after the wedding and the honeymoon were over and both Benton and Alena had to return to normal activities? So that his father wouldn’t be so stressed and might reconsider their hard parting? So that, just maybe, Benton would let him back in and Jonny wouldn’t have to leave at all…

Even as he thought about it, certain words floated in and out of his thoughts; they were painful words that struck a difficult chord.

_There’s nothing more for us to discuss, Jonathan…_

_Thank you for your opinion, although it wasn’t necessary…_

… _this is rather disappointing…_

The phrases stung; they put salt in his open wounds. But it cleared his mind also. No, there was no sense in waiting. Whatever had made his father decide to react the way he did, Jonny knew it was not something that had formed purely out of the stress of Benton’s relationship with Alena. Leaving was the only way to get out honestly, unless Jonny was willing to face a cold, forced, bitter relationship with his dad for the rest of their lives. And that was one thing he simply could not face.

Instead of wondering what he would do with his life now that he was totally on his own, Jonny decided to check out the local scenery with more clarity as it passed his window. For a little while after passing Manchester, there was really no indication of his exact location, though he knew he was still in New Hampshire. Then a sign directing him to Hawthorne-Feather Airpark cleared it all up; he was very close to Hillsborough, New Hampshire. Being decently acquainted with the town that boasted Franklin Pierce’s homestead, Jonny wondered if he should stop for the night. It seemed unlikely that anything would be gained by driving for hours without any sleep, anyway. Not willing to risk a car accident or running out of gas in the middle of a less-familiar place, the young man pulled into a gas station just outside of town and went in to inquire about lodgings and – as he quickly saw was necessary – fill up the near-empty tank.

While waiting for the gauge to eventually hit full, Jonny abruptly remembered his promise to call Jessie once he got settled somewhere. Figuring that Hillsborough was about as ‘settled’ as he was going to get until he reached the west coast, the young man sat inside the car, pulled out his cell phone and pressed the speed dial button for one of his favorite redheads.

The ringing seemed to go on forever, but Jonny supposed it was because of his restlessness more than anything else. As soon as he had stretched his legs, he felt a desire to get right back in the car and drive off again. Yet if he learned one thing in his life so far, it was that running was only a good response when you were facing death or bodily harm, not when what you were running from was yourself.

When the phone _was_ answered, it was not by Jessie at all, but Estella.

"You’re all right, then." That rich, dignified voice, weighted by the slight return of her Colombian accent, was so strongly rooted in relief, worry, and understanding that Jonny felt a strong surge of affection for the mother of his best friend.

"Yeah, I’m pretty good," he concluded untruthfully, doubting if he would ever be completely all right unless and until he fixed the damaged relationship with his father. But that was a matter for another time, when he was less likely to break down over the whole situation.

"In the physical sense only, of course," Estella replied dryly. Jonny could imagine the wry, exasperated look on her face as if she were standing directly before him. Somehow, it made him feel better to think like that.

"We can’t have it it all, now can we?" he remarked with quite a liberal amount of sarcasm.

"I suppose not," was her sad conclusion, accompanied by a heavy sigh. "Where are you? Or is that considered an adventurer’s foremost trade secret and completely off limits to nosy old women?"

"Old women," Jonny found himself teasing her, a tiny smile covering his face as he rolled his eyes at her exaggeration. It was a rare luxury after the kind of day he’d had and it grounded him in the present without the added pressure of the emotions that had been cascading over him the entire drive. Something heavy weighed down his stomach now, but he suddenly found himself capable of living past it. "As if. You look nearer to your daughter’s age than your own. As to my whereabouts, I’ll have to decide if I can trust you with such sensitive information before I reveal the answer."

Chuckling was her only response, leaving Jonny to fill the mildly awkward silence that ensued between them. “So, where’s Jess right now?”

This time, Estella groaned outright, though extremely quietly. The sound was recognizable as the sort of noise she often made when trouble was brewing for either her daughter or for Jonny. Gauging the situation from a more objective point of view, the young adventurer guessed it was him facing the trouble this time. Not that it was such an unusual phenomenon, but still…

"You will not like it," she informed him with a short, irritated sigh. "I am warning you right now, you just will not like it."

"What’s going on this time, then?" he sighed resignedly, knowing it would be far better to hear the news now than to find out while caught in some random notoriety scene at a grocery store or a gas station like the one he sat in front of at that very moment. From the way the attendant had eyed the back AmEx card and now kept shooting surreptitious looks at Jonny’s pricey red Mercedes, suspicions appeared to be high enough in the first place.

"The press is… in an uproar, to say the very least," Estella admitted tiredly, at which point Jonny knew without asking that she was rubbing her temples to ward off the growing headache. Forestalling such a reaction himself, Jonny instead jumped out just as the indicator was rising towards full and waited until he could remove the nozzle from the tank to replace it in its holding. "At the worst, they’re downright fanatical. Your disappearance from the wedding initiated a whole host of rumors, obviously."

"The least of which would be…?" he prompted with curiosity and a raised brow, getting back into the car absentmindedly. The range of stories would allow him to determine his plans with some vague solidity. If the higher end of the range went dark enough and personal enough to cause him pains in moving quietly forward, then a change of name, hair color, and car was in order as soon as humanly possible.

"That you and your father are having a fiery family feud over who should be running Quest companies and stocks," Estella answered easily. "Apparently, _The Washington Post_ is printing an early edition about–”

“ _Uh_ oh!” Jonny interceded with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. The Washington Post had been a thorn in the Quest family’s side for years, but particularly in Jonny’s. They just loved to make him out as the rebellious teen who thought he could run his father’s enterprises better than Benton himself could. As if Jonny had ever even considered that…

"Wait for it…" Estella went to say, a slight laugh in her voice, "about your – and I quote – _'stormy anticipation of overtaking the major holdings of a worn-down company for controversial revitalization.'_ End quote.”

"Considering my experiences with the press in the last decade, that’s actually kind of friendly," confessed Jonny sincerely, relaxing further in his seat as he drove away from the station and its nosy attendant. Honestly, the particular quote Estella mentioned was altogether boring. How much more clichéd could the rumors get? Nevermind the fact that there really was a feud; the subject of that debate was nowhere near about the enormous Quest industries and its current owner. "What else have they got to throw at me?"

“ _The National Enquirer_ is saying that you and Jessie are eloping, thanks to Benton’s disapproval of having a less-than-socially-acceptable match for his only son and heir.”

"Irina started that one," Jonny stated knowledgeably, rolling his eyes at the musical starlet’s attempts to sabotage whatever relationship she _still_ believed Jessie and Jonny were engrossed in – ‘behind her back,’ as she put it. The day that Irina Kafka got truly clued in about Jonny’s real love life – which did not include Irina _or_ Jessie – he would leap from a cliffside in utter joy.

"How on earth do you know that?" asked Estella incredulously. Jonny had to remind himself of how little Estella knew of Irina.

"Well, how many tabloids are going to draw the conclusion of elopement simply because I missed the wedding? Add in the bit about Jess not being ‘socially-acceptable’… That’s totally Irina’s handiwork. She keeps accusing me of backstabbing her with Jessie. Honestly, it has been driving us _nuts_.”

"That is a good point," Estella agreed a bit sheepishly. "And Jessie did put in an appearance at the reception, so…"

"She did?" Although Jonny was surprised, he could see that it made sense. Jessie had probably imagined this rumor could be passed around if she didn’t show herself at the wedding at all.

"Yes, we sat together at the back of the pews." Mischief littered Estella’s voice.

"Why does that leave me feeling so uneasy?" Jonny breathed a small laugh, relieved at how easily it came to him.

Estella had a difficult time speaking through her own laughter, “We may have made fun of the decorations… and the groomsman’s ties… and a certain bridesmaid.”

Jonny truly laughed at the embarrassed confession.

"Hey, before I forget," he added suddenly, "why do you have Jess’ phone?"

"She’s so busy with damage control," Estella explained with another sigh. "I’m afraid to imagine how little sleep she’ll be getting this week."

"Maybe if she knows I’m safely away, she’ll sleep a little more," he suggested hopefully.

"It will help, I know that much," she assured him.

A sign for the bed and breakfast the attendant had described came into sight just then, a vision Jonny was feeling rather wary about the closer he came to it. What if they recognized him? What if someone got word back to the compound or the press? Peace would be nonexistent if that happened, he was sure. The thoughts swirled dangerously in his mind, steadily increasing his tension.

"Are you even listening, Nathy?" Estella’s voice cut through Jonny’s reminiscence sharply, the use of that nickname spurring him to indignation. Only Estella had ever used it. To be blunt, it was something she’d done to irritate him whenever he seemed to be either too proud or too reckless to listen to her instructions.

"Not that name!" he half-shouted into the cell phone. The woman’s chuckling was a welcome sound in spite of his exceptional agitation.

"I figured it might wake you up a little bit," she slyly responded. Jonny scowled at the dashboard, but did not say a word in reply. "Now, where are you staying?"

"Stonewall Farm Bed and Breakfast," he said plainly. He figured it would be simpler to just tell her and let her decide what her next actions would be.

"What are you going to do?" The seriousness in her tone struck Jonny a bit senseless for a moment. He remained clueless as ever about his future. Not only did he not feel entirely certain about heading to the loft, he also did not feel completely sure of his ability to live on his own like that. He had become so used to the company at the compound that he had never considered doing an independent venture.

"I just don’t know yet," he finally shrugged as nonchalantly as possible, turning into the bed and breakfast which was situated at an angle facing vaguely in the direction he’d come from, with the driveway on the side leading off into the back (and presumably to a parking lot). Jonny stopped just beside the front walkway. He was not going to park way in the back if there were no rooms available.

Estella took a deep breath; whether for patience or to keep emotions at bay, Jonny didn’t know. “Hm. I guess that is all I can expect after what happened. Just… take care of yourself, will you? Contrary to the view of some, I do _not_ wish you harm or to have a deeper falling out with your family.”

"Who said that?" he asked – no, more like demanded. What a load of tripe.

"Alena," came the predictable sigh. "She claims I’ve been pushing you further and further from the family because I only want Jessie and her ‘boyfriend’ to be near me as much as possible. Jade did _not_ help any, as you can guess.”

"I hope you smacked them both," he bit out with unexpected fury. Normally he did not condone hitting women, but what right did that – Jonny had to refrain from using one of Jessie’s less peaceable names – _woman_ have to accuse Estella of that?

"Jessie nearly did, if it makes you feel any better." Amusement graced her voice, but Jonny could hear the hurt beneath it. Estella had made such an effort to be civil with Alena, but it had been thoroughly ignored. To top it all off, the woman with whom Race had cheated on Estella – and now had married, unfortunately – instantly became a close friend instead. Despite her strength, Jessie’s mother could be quite sensitive.

"Not really, seeing as she didn’t follow through all the way," he remarked, but rapidly changed the subject to spare her a tiny amount of upset if it was at all possible. "Tell Jess that I miss her temper already, okay?"

"I will," Estella replied, a smile in her voice. "Oh, and she said she will call you to let you know if a change of name and appearance is at all necessary."

"I’ll hold off until she calls, then," he agreed with some amusement. "Thank you, Estella."

"You are very welcome, Jonny. Call me for anything you need to, all right? Anytime, anywhere."

"Don’t I always?" he laughed genuinely, thinking of the many times he had phoned Estella for advice. Particularly during the times he and Jessie had attempted dating. To put it mildly, their period of dating would have been an unqualified disaster without Estella’s coaching.

"True," was all she said, laughing herself as she hung up. Still smiling mildly, the pale-haired youth put away the cell phone in his coat pocket, stepped out of his car, and headed up to the front door of the farm slowly and thoughtfully.

Well-maintained and old-fashioned in style, the large building was solid white with dozens of windows and a huge spot of land in the back. Trees and plants were everywhere, of course; he could see them all around the house, even in the darkness, thanks to the moon and the light hung up on the left front wall of the house beside a sign reading ‘Stonewall Farm.’ Jessie would have called the place enchanting, were she there with him at that moment.

Luckily for Jonny, the bed and breakfast accepted visitors at any time after five in the morning and before midnight. From what the station attendant said, it was originally meant as a courtesy for those who might have gotten lost trying to find the farm in the first place. For the time being, it was helpful for Jonny’s late night visit.

Reaching the door at last, he looked through its multi-paned window before heading inside. What he found seemed to be the great room; a space that somehow reminded him of the many adventures he and his family had encountered over the years. Perhaps it was because of the many low-maintenance places he’d stayed in before and the effect of homemade furnishings and décor. Whatever the reason, the familiarity eased his mind enough to step inside the homey atmosphere.

Chancing a skeptical glance at his surroundings, he definitely began to feel right at home. Country and cozy described the room to a tee. Dozens of colorful quilts were laid out on old but sturdy chairs and two comfortable couches, one white with blue flowers and the other a tan and yellow plaid. Through the open door on other side of the room, Jonny could just make out an equally old-looking dining table and several wooden chairs settled around it. Every single one of them had a different design carved into it and they were all of varying pale colors. Mismatched was definitely the perfect word for them.

Everything was mismatched, actually. There was no obvious theme visible at any point in the room, except for comfort and relaxation. Although he did notice a pair of matching lavender ottomans. Well, he thought they matched… until he spied the opposing colors of the feet and trim. To say the least, interesting simply wasn’t a good enough word to describe the place.

"Can I help you, son?" came a deep, gravelly voice from his left.

Jonny jumped, inwardly cursing his own absentmindedness. That was the kind of move that would have gotten him killed in adventures past.

Turning around, he found himself looking at a middle-aged man in dark khakis and a brown button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His face was friendly enough and his eyes beheld a certain warmth despite the fact that they were the color of a steel gray cloud. Remarkably, the man had a full head of obsidian hair to offset his unusual eyes. He was staring at his latest visitor with a cautious look, however, and the silence was getting a bit thick. Jonny could only assume him to be the owner.

"Uh, I’m sorry," Jonny replied sheepishly, a nervous shrug betraying his tension. "The place kind of reminded me of home and I got a bit lost in thought…"

It was true enough, Jonny supposed, except for the fact he didn’t feel like mentioning that the ‘home’ he was comparing it to was a combination of every travel spot he’d ever had occasion to stay at. This only deepened the man’s suspicious expression, so Jonny kept on in the hopes of redeeming his stupidity. “Anyway, I was hoping to stay in area for a few days. The attendant at the gas station back in town recommended you to me.”

Much to Jonny’s surprise, mentioning the equally cautious attendant immediately put the black-haired man at ease.

"You must mean Ryan," he commented casually, waving Jonny over to a small counter space far on the left side of the room. "No one else likes to work the station this time of night or on a weekend."

"Oh, right," Jonny replied, following his host tentatively to the aforementioned counter. "Ryan. I’m sorry to say I didn’t pay attention to his name tag while I was there."

"Ah, most people don’t," said the man carelessly, waving away the apologetic words as he rounded the end of the counter and began clicking away at an old IBM computer. (As far as Jonny was concerned, the thing was a virtual dinosaur.) "They just take his advice and come over to see what we have going on here at the farm. Business is always a little slow this time of year, so Ryan tries to help us out where he can… April in New Hampshire can be a little tricky for most vacationers. The weather can be incredibly somewhat unpredictable, I’d say. You must be out for some peace and quiet, rather than recreation."

As the man rambled on about his business and the weather, Jonny found himself relaxing completely and easily responding, “I just needed some time to think. Family troubles, you know?”

"Yes. I might know a little something about that…" The man chuckled somewhat grimly, unless it was Jonny’s imagination going into overdrive. "How long do you plan on staying, son?"

"I’m not really sure," Jonny hedged. He had no idea, really. All he knew was that he’d have to take enough time to plan out his immediate future. If he was going to drive all the way to the coast, he needed a game plan before he moved even one suburb past Hillsborough. "How much per night? Oh, and do you have many other lodgers right now?"

"Base charge of one-hundred-and-thirty dollars a night. Meals are another fifteen dollars each. If you decide you want that at a later time, then you can just add it onto your bill and pay at the end of your stay… As far as lodgers are concerned, we’ve only got one other reservation so far this week, but they won’t be arriving until Monday. Taking that into consideration, I can show you around and you can choose your room, if you like."

"Sure," Jonny agreed with another shrug. "That would be great. And… I guess I’ll stay for a week, but no meals as of yet."

"A week?" was the man’s surprised question.

"Yeah, a week," Jonny absently confirmed, paying more attention to rifling through a black leather wallet he had dug out of his back pocket.

"That’s pretty pricey," the man offered up warily, some suspicion creeping back onto his face. "Not too many visitors come around with that much cash in hand. Especially when they don’t even know how long they’re going to be staying."

Ignoring the question and the growing suspicion, Jonny instead held up his black AmEx card for the man to goggle at. Blinking as though the card might disappear from his sight, the owner finally shook himself from a near stupor, accepting the card and the week-long stay without any further questions.

Once it was all settled and the man came around the counter waving at him to follow, Jonny could only feel relieved that the man had not recognized his name or picture.

"Glad to meet you…" Here the man glanced down at the driver’s license for a name as he passed it back. "Jonathan."

"Jon," the young man quickly corrected, stuffing the license and credit card back in his full wallet. He obviously couldn’t go by Jonny, in case someone else was able to put it together with his appearance, which was not as unlikely as he’d once believed.

"Jon, then," the man smiled a bit grimly again (something Jonny found quite odd). "My name’s Daniel. Tomorrow you’ll probably see my wife, Naomi, working around the house, as well. But don’t worry, she doesn’t bite. Much."

Jonny laughed uncertainly, not quite sure how to take Daniel as of yet. The man seemed serious for the most part, but half of the comments he made were some of the driest the young man had ever heard. Hoping very much that Daniel was the kind of person who grew on people after a day or so, Jonny followed him quietly towards the stairs.

Each step through the house led the twenty-six-year-old past the most intriguing little knick-knacks. Aged books lay in ever nook and cranny possible, the covers worn and peeling half the time, and a lot of the ornaments were chipped and faded in places. Passing these lackluster bits of history made Jonny feel both exceedingly young and obsessively overdressed. His dark jeans were brand new – a pair Jessie had insisted he buy on their last shopping excursion before the wedding – and his sweater and coat were nearly so.

Four rooms were shown to him, each one different enough to warrant a little bit of decision-making on Jonny’s part. Simple black, white, and gray varieties of toile adorned the Kingswood room. The Sarah Bickford Room made a dramatic statement with deep blues, slight hints of violet, and stark white. Sage green and ivory clothed the Dewhurst room in peacefulness. Draped in white gauzy fabrics and outfitted with red-patterned chairs was the Stonewall room. And the last room, the one that hit Jonny a bit uncomfortably, was the Franklin Pierce room. Goldenrod and muddy brown were much too reminiscent of the colors Benton Quest always favored in his clothing and his home.

Turning swiftly away from the sight and the reminder, Jonny made his way back to the room that had seemed the most inviting, Daniel close on his heels.

"You’ll certainly feel peaceful and quiet in the Dewhurst room," Daniel commented, nodding knowledgeably. "Why don’t you bring in your luggage while I put together a welcome packet for you."

"Oh, please don’t trouble yourself," Jonny interceded quickly. "I don’t need it. I’ll probably just be staying close at the farm anyway."

"No trouble at all, son," said Daniel assuredly. "We ran out today, so I was going to get started on some more anyhow."

"Oh, okay," the young adventurer conceded, relaxing slightly. "Uh… do you have closets in the rooms?"

Daniel nodded once. “Certainly do. Decent enough to fit a whole wardrobe, so Naomi says. Every room has a private bathroom, too.”

"Ah. Right." Lacking anything original to say, Jonny edged his way to the stairs under the scrutinizing gaze of his strange host, until he couldn’t stand it anymore and finally rushed down the steps and out to the car.

Fearing what might happen to his luggage if he left any of it outside, Jonny sighed resignedly and set about dragging two or three pieces at a time into the white house and up to his new room. Time-consuming though it was, the young man felt a certain satisfaction when every single suitcase and bag lay innocuously on the floor of the bedroom. Now fairly exhausted, Jonny began to feel every minute he’d been driving that day as if he’d walked rather than drove. Still he moved sluggishly to take out the basic necessities he would use in the morning. It was downright annoying to wake up and have to start unpacking your morning essentials through sleep-clouded senses.

Looking into the pack, however, Jonny abruptly came to conclusion that he might just as well not unpack the bag at all. The only thing in it was a new toothbrush, two packs of mint dental floss, a pack of opened tissues, and a half-empty first aid kit.

"Lovely," he muttered irritably. A shopping trip was the last thing he needed at the moment.

A knock at the open door interrupted his agitated thoughts and he turned from his crouched position as Daniel said, “Got your packet here, son. All the keys you might need are in there with labels.”

"Thanks." Jonny remarked with a forced smile. "Listen, could you tell me where I can buy stuff like shampoo, soap, toothpaste, and whatnot around here?"

"Right in the packet," Daniel smiled a bit, tapping the thick pack in his hand. "We put all you might need in here. Clothing, health, food, cars, banks… All of it’s there. If you don’t find what you need in the packet, you’d have to go outside of Hillsborough to get it."

"Wonderful," Jonny responded sincerely, reaching out for the little bundle with honest gratitude. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome," said Daniel. "Have a nice night."

"You too," called the despondent young man as his host left the room and stumped noisily downstairs.

Jonny meant to go and unpack everything, he really did. He meant to change out of his sweater, jeans, coat, and shoes. He meant to brush his teeth with water at the very least, And he certainly meant to shut the door and lock it. Whatever he meant, however, when Jonathan Quest rested for just one moment on the amazingly comfortable bed, he soon found himself nodding off where he sat. After almost unseating himself and knocking his skull on the headboard, Jonny eventually dragged his body to lay across the ivory covers and swiftly fell fast asleep with his arm thrown over his face, the door wide open and the keys still stuck in their little, labeled packets.

* * *

 


	3. Left Behind

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make any profit off of _Jonny Quest_ or _The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest_ , which are the property of Hannah Barbara/Cartoon Network. The Iverson Assembly, Garman the scientist, and Sanjana are all products of my own imagination. Additionally, I do not own Sacred Heart Church, but the seating capacity/all physical descriptions are fabricated. 

A/N: I started writing a one-shot about Benton’s wedding and then in the middle of it I realized I had a couple of ways I could go with it. So this is the second of two story-lines based on the same basic plot. I do not have any factual support for any medical ideas mentioned herein.

> **Chapter 3: Simple Words**

Benton Quest strode through the hall of Penney Memorial Church with all the fire and frustration of a man yet to realize he is fighting a losing battle. Through the haze of agitation, the scientist barely acknowledged the two familiar bridesmaids waiting outside the main anteroom as he passed them by.

Only Race’s steady approach woke the redheaded explorer from his unapproachable mien, the once-bodyguard now gazing questioningly behind Benton.

“Where’s Jonny?” the pale-haired man wondered curiously, absently adjusting his exotic boutonnière.

Benton took a moment to breathe in and out slowly, finally responding curtly. “He’s not coming.”

Race stared blankly as the words were spoken, blinking several times as he tried to register the meaning. He couldn’t seem to make it happen, however, instead prompting the scientist flatly, “What?”

“I said,” Benton began with even greater irritation, “he’s not coming.”

“I don’t understand,” the other man shook his head in ongoing confusion. “Is something wrong? Is Jonny sick, hurt…?”

“He is just. not. coming.” Benton repeated for the second time through tightly clenched teeth. Race looked taken aback, leaning away slightly as his employer and friend became increasingly vexed.

“What happened?” Jessie spoke at Benton’s left, her concerned appearance startling the bearded genius out of a part of his annoyance. The young woman looked around the three of them searchingly and added with a frown, “Where’s Jonny?”

“He’s not coming, apparently,” Race repeated with sudden suspicion, leaving Benton to uncomfortably acknowledge whatever conversation his friend clearly had in mind for the future.

“What? Why not?” Jessie asked incredulously, looking between both men in frustration. “He wouldn’t miss his dad’s wedding just like that! What did you say to him?”

As the young redhead turned on the doctor with fiery green eyes, Benton had the good fortune of being interrupted before he had to respond to the defensive question.

“Alena is ready,” Sanjana told the trio quietly, eyeing their discord with an unhappy air.

Jessie turned from the Sultana back to Benton, accusations littering her fearsome gaze that the scientist could hardly respond to in such a public setting.

“Jonathan will not be standing with us,” Benton said more calmly, but beneath that lay a wealth of coldness he had never felt towards his only child. The media would have a field day with this incident, he felt certain.

Staring emptily at Benton’s blank visage, Jessie stood a moment to gauge him. Whatever she saw, Race’s daughter transitioned all too easily into a glare of rather distracting proportions.

“Then I won’t be either,” Jessie coldly replied, turning on her heel and marching back into the anteroom without looking back.

Sighing tiredly at the growing situation, Race reached up to rub his forehead. “Thanks for that, Benton. There’ll be no talking to her for the rest of the day.”

The sarcasm in the other man’s tone put Benton immediately on the defensive. “It’s not my fault if your daughter can’t reign in her notoriously short temper.”  
  
Not waiting for a response, Benton marched to the sanctuary and headed up to the altar, where Hadji soon joined him. Briefly, Benton wondered where his adopted son had been.

“But where is Jonny?” Hadji asked quietly of his adoptive father, leaving the man to close his eyes for patience.

“Not coming,” Benton answered shortly.

It said a great deal about Hadji Singh that he did not comment on such a vastly under-explained statement, but merely stood back in the position he held amongst the groomsmen. Benton did not dare glance back at the young man‘s face, afraid of what he might find there.

For all the tension amongst the wedding party, Race came to stand at Benton’s side, however awkwardly, along with Pasha and Hadji. The bridesmaids began their descent, Jessie noticeably absent from their number. In an instinctive move, Benton glanced toward the back of the church, justified when he noticed two redheads standing near the side entrance of the sanctuary with their heads bent in discussion.

Jessie Bannon’s young face bespoke the same riled anger of moments prior, all fire and indignation not tempered by any form of understanding. There would be little civil discussion between Benton and the young woman he so often guided through academic endeavors and thoughtful debate. The thought sent a jolt of unease through the scientist, hackles raised at some unknown discomfort he could hardly label.

By great contrast to her twenty-one-year-old daughter, Estella Velasquez’s countenance lit with a sad, knowing expression that took Benton’s breath away. Taken aback and left afraid for reasons unknown, Benton forced his gaze towards the two bridesmaids now moving to their places at the side of the altar, draping indigo gowns trailing the ground behind them.

Jade Kenyon and Sanjana Gadhavi could not have been more different had they been born ten centuries apart, Benton decided somewhat ruefully.

With her seductive mannerisms and deceptive nature, Race’s current partner stood more like a sinuous siren of old mythology than a modern mercenary supporting her soon-to-be-wed friend.

Sanjana, by contrast, held poised and steady by the culture and etiquette of her native land and social position, gave the appearance of a dignified medieval queen.

Benton’s observations became only mildly distracted when the bridal chorus began to play, his eyes now riveted to Jessie as she walked away from her mother in an angry hurry.

As Estella took a seat in the far back corner, she and Benton caught gazes between altar and pew – sad green met with blank brown – and Benton felt sudden fear the likes of which he had not felt in years. The emotion struck him mute, playing on his brain in waves of surprise. It took a monumental effort to put his energies back into the appearance of his soon-to-be wife.

From the sanctuary doorway, Irina stepped through in the same indigo gown and trailing skirt as the bridesmaids. The red-haired man had to wonder at her overly elaborate chignon, exotic bouquet, and haughty expression as she walked the floor.

From behind her surrogate daughter, Alena appeared with a regal tread in her long-sleeved white gown, the strapless dress beneath having been overlaid with a sparse and delicate lace bodice. Trailing ages and eons behind the bride herself, the train to match the damask skirt seemed overly extensive, but as Benton had for weeks and months, he let it pass as unimportant. This was Alena’s day – her first wedding and the most publicized event she had attended since leaving the office of President; Benton could afford to be indulgent.

It seemed an age by the time Alena came to stand before Benton, waist-length veil shrouding the stately visage her groom had become well accustomed to over the past two years. But the woman beneath that… His mind wandered over those damning words between he and his son…

_"Jonathan, what do _ **you**__ _really know about her? About her feelings? Her goals?"_

_"What do _ **you**_ know about those things?"_

Did Benton really know Alena? Did he know what she wanted in life or what she wanted their marriage to be like?

Unable to answer those questions, Benton shook it off as best he could and returned his focus to the moment at hand, taking Alena’s fingers into his own as she came to stand beside him and the minister began the ceremony.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God, and in the presence of this company, to unite Benton and Alena in holy matrimony. Marriage was ordained by God in Eden and confirmed in Cana of Galilee by the presence of the Lord Himself, and is declared by the inspired Apostle Paul to be honorable among all men. It is therefore, not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, soberly and in the fear of God. It is fitting, therefore, that we should on this occasion, begin by asking God's blessing on this marriage service. Let us pray.”

The prayer passed through Benton’s mind emptily, as much as he tried to focus on it, but all of his resolve to center on the wedding alone had faded again. Through half an ear he heard the minister ask Alena her intent.

“Alena, will you have this man to be your husband, to live together in the sacred estate of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, and be faithful to him, as long as you both shall live?”

Without a single hesitance in her dignified voice, Alena answered, “I will.”

The minister turned to Benton in kind, asking the same of him, “Benton, will you have this woman to be your wife, to live together in the sacred estate of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, and be faithful to her, as long as you both shall live?”

“I will,” the scientist replied steadily.

Their intentions cleared, the minister prompted Alena with the vows passed from bride to groom, the words almost mindless to Benton as he heard them for the second time in his life. All the while the nuptials continued, Benton’s mind was only half-focused. No matter how greatly he attempted it, even as the scientist repeated after the minister, he could not repress all of his son’s incredulous questions and stunned doubts.

_"You're supposed to _ **marry**_ this woman!"_

“I, Benton Cleary Quest, take thee, Alena Terezia Stasny, to be my wedded wife.”

_"Imagine how she'll feel if you get to your ten-year anniversary and you don't know her feelings and her goals and what she wants out of life!"_

“To have and to hold from this day forward…”

_“You take for granted the fact you'll never have to bail him out of anything…he's older and he's always known better…”_

“…for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer…”

_“…You know…till death do you part? To love, honor, cherish, and all that?"_

_“I think I know the vows, Jonathan.”_

“…in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do us part.”

_“You think your dad is full of wisdom and common sense because he's been around longer than you have.”_

“…according to God's holy ordinance, thereto I pledge my love.”

_“…She's not going to forgive you for this.”_

Benton shook himself mentally, shoving the memory of that room away from his mind with all of his strength. Jonathan had made his choices and Benton had made his, too. They didn’t agree, but that didn’t mean anything in the long run. At some point, parents and their children had very different views of the world. They didn’t have to agree on those views, they simply had to accept that a different view existed and let it go.

Jonathan didn’t see things the same as Benton did; his son was more idealistic at such a young age and had a very picturesque view of his father’s ideals and choices. That view was one which Benton could not share. But he could accept its existence.

All that left was for Jonathan to accept the same disconnect between their outlooks, and move forward with his own life.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my vow,” Alena pronounced clearly, slipping the gold band onto Benton’s finger, “and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, in the name of God.”

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my vow,” Benton repeated the expected line with due diligence when the time came, sliding the ornate wedding band onto his bride’s left ring finger and sealing their mutual fate, “and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, in the name of God.”

The minister took over for them, gesturing at both of them with his free hand, “Inasmuch as Benton and Alena have consented together in marriage, and have witnessed the same before you, and thereto have pledged their faith to each other, and have declared the same by the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of rings, I now pronounce them… husband and wife. Whom God has brought together, let no one put asunder.”

Benton made his choice.

Now Jonathan had to do the same.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the minister echoed in the sanctuary, bringing Benton away from his son with greater permanence.

In the waiting silence, Benton gently lifted the floating veil, rolling the sheer fabric back over Alena’s rich brown hair and allowing it to double over the back as he leaned forward to press his lips against hers.

The audience erupted in socially acceptable applause when the smiling minister ended the ceremony, “Ladies and Gentlemen… May I present to you, Dr. & Mrs. Benton and Alena Quest.”

Applause rang out more loudly and genuinely this time as Benton and Alena turned hand-in-hand to face the waiting crowd.

To the beat of Mendelssohn’s traditional Wedding March, the two of them steadily made their way down the aisle to the sanctuary entrance, the mild joy of their situation easing away as the tension from the groomsmen and bridesmaids behind them began oozing its way forward.

It did not help in the least for Benton and Alena to have a receiving line _before_ everyone left the church and headed to the reception venue in Augusta. However, Alena and Irina had mutually insisted on the gesture so as not to miss any of the guests who might not make the reception. The social ramifications of missing even one strange guest seemed unbearable to Benton’s fiancée and her surrogate daughter, but once more Benton had let it pass untested.

With the enormous crowd they had gathered for this occasion, Benton actually felt quite surprised it only took three hours to get each and every talkative busybody out of the church. Alena’s decision for the earlier hour of their marriage ceremony made a great deal more sense in that light, and Benton could hardly help feeling grateful for his new bride’s foresight.

Gratitude was not an emotion Benton felt when faced with the constant questions and concerns about his son. There was simply no easy or soothing way of explaining a son not attending his father’s wedding. Everyone knew the Quest men stood at odds now, and the press would be going insane over the news.

By the time the already-exhausted wedding party and their closest friends reached the anteroom where they would take post-ceremony photos, the air had dropped by unspeakable degrees amongst the silent group. Benton could already see the frazzled air surrounding Irina, Alena’s obvious political mask, and the stiffness in Race’s shoulders.

To the redheaded scientist’s surprise, Jessie and Estella waited in the anteroom for all of them, mother and daughter matching in pensive expressions and clasped hands.

The photographer turned to Estella for guidance in the tense atmosphere, a move Benton ascertained with a certain amount of disgust. Alena and Irina had all but excluded the archaeologist from the wedding events, despite her continuing friendship with the Quest team and her close bond with Jessie. Yet it had not stopped Irina from assigning Estella the work of guiding photographers and stylists throughout the day’s events.

Estella seemed accepting, however, so Benton allowed the situation to go untested. It did not mean he liked it, but if the woman herself stood unwilling to challenge it, then it was not Benton’s place to intervene.

If Benton had believed the receiving line to be longwinded at three hours, he could not have comprehended how long a mere 30 minute photography session could feel. When at last it ended, Estella thanking the man for his services and leading him to the door, the scientist felt his shoulders relaxing somehow.

Deafened by the overwhelming silence as Estella finally closed the door behind the man, Benton slipped to the window, wary of what reaction Alena would have to her new stepson’s absence from such an enormous day in their lives.

“Jonny’s really got wings,” came the sudden comment from a familiar, seductive voice. Benton glanced over to see Jade smirking slightly. The expression agitated him every time he saw it on her face, but at that moment he truly began to hate it. Jonathan’s absence was not in any way amusing.

“Of course he does!” Irina finally burst with unexpected vigor, fists clenched at her sides. “Always running away from the things and people that should mean the most to him!”

“Don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” Race interrupted irritably, his temper finally fraying at the edges after all the tension and suspense of the situation.

“If anyone understands Jonathan, it is me!” Irina cut in angrily, fists clenching again at her sides as she leaned towards Race. “He is just too afraid to admit it.”

“That’s a load of crap if I’ve ever heard it,” Race argued back again, and Benton wondered when the bodyguard’s shoulders would pop from the pressure of his tense posture. “You wouldn’t truly know that boy if he came up and slapped you. And maybe he should!”

“Do not talk to Irina that way!” Alena threw in with abrupt fury, whirling on Race as deftly as she was able in her voluminous wedding gown.

“Well, maybe she shouldn’t make up tall tales!” retorted Race angrily, his glare matching Alena’s harrowing stare point for point.

“Race, please,” Estella interrupted as calmly as she was able, hands outstretched in a placating gesture. Benton noticed Jade tense up, but she made no effort to speak up in any way. The silence bothered Benton for reasons he could not explain as Estella continued, “This is probably not the best time.”

“Oh, it is a perfect time,” Alena debated frustratedly, hand clutched about her bouquet with unusual violence. “Mr. Bannon should air his views at every wedding he attends. It would show everyone just how ignorant he can truly be!”

“Speaks the woman who planned a wedding for its social retinue,” the bodyguard growled in reply, leading Estella to intercede a second time before Alena and Irina both exploded at the ‘insult.’

“Please, the guests are waiting at the civic center,” the redheaded archaeologist pleaded with her ex-husband and the bride. “There is enough press fodder as it is. Don’t add to it.”

“Jonathan and Jessica have added enough already!” Irina spat at the redheaded mother and daughter in turns, glaring openly. “Secrets and lies are all they spread anymore.”

“You just can’t take the hint, can you?” Jessie herself finally inserted her opinion, glaring with a great deal more violence than Irina had ever been capable of. Alena stood ramrod straight, fully prepared to jump in if Jessie seemed threatening towards the pianist. “Get it through your head: I am _not_ dating Jonny Quest!”

“You could not tell the truth if it would save your life,” Irina hissed back. “Just like your mother.”

“Don’t you _dare_ talk about my mother that way,” Jessie bit out furiously, subtly eyeing the wince Estella produced in response to the accusation. Benton had already been glancing at the archaeologist for some minutes, well aware how these conversations usually ended; Estella typically received the short end of the stick no matter what she said or did.

“That woman has been pushing Jonathan further and further from his own family year after year,” Irina dared to add. “She only wants you and your boyfriend to be near her as much as possible! She would happily let Jonathan come to harm if it brought him under your care!”

Red flooded Jessie Bannon’s face so quickly and darkly that Benton honestly worried for her health, not to mention Irina’s physical well-being. From the twitching of Jessie’s clenched hand, the scientist decided he had every reason to worry, but the young redhead kept herself in check by the barest of margins.

“You ignorant little twit,” Jessie snapped angrily, seeming to be at a loss for words. Those four words were enough to enrage Alena, though, and Benton wished he could just disappear before the inevitable explosion.

“You dare speak to Irina this way?” the former president turned to face Jessie, a cold look upon her features. “After you have spent all of your time sabotaging the bond she shared with Jonathan?”

Benton almost felt like laughing at that, but he couldn’t find the energy. Irina may have been friendly with his son, but if Jessie’s protective measures over the past few years were any indication, Jonathan did not return the sentiment any longer. If there was one thing he would have to speak with Alena about, it was that. After he tried to explain Jonathan’s rude attempts to intervene on their marriage, at least. Angry all over again at the thought, Benton sighed almost silently. He just couldn’t win in this situation.  
  
”Don’t you start on Jessie!” Race stood up for his daughter, Estella right behind him with the first anger she had shown all day. The cryptographer may have allowed her own reputation to go unspoken for, but no one attacked her daughter without recompense.

“As if Jessie would ever want to damage something that made Jonny happy,” Estella spoke reasonably, clearly reigning in her unmatched temper. “They are best friends and she cares about his wellbeing. That’s all there is to it.”

“Bet you’ve used that saying before,” Jade commented snidely from her place leaning against the wall near the door. Her unrepentant gray eyes matched the sharp snap of Estella’s rich green gaze.

The two women held each other at a standoff, the likes of which Benton had seldom seen the archaeologist engage in. By the surprised expressions Race and Jessie wore, Benton was not the only one.

Something, though… something disturbed Estella about Jade’s comment. Benton could hardly guess what, but if he got the chance upon returning from the honeymoon, he would talk to her about it. Sometimes she would let him in on little moments she dared not share with even her daughter. Jessie could certainly keep a secret, but if she was angry enough she might very well spill the beans in an effort to protect her mother or clear her name.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Estella responded coldly at last, statuesque in her posture as she turned away from the slinking woman.

Race stood silent, staring between his ex-wife and his current partner, vacillating between speech and ignorance. The matter seemed to keep him restrained, however, not daring to cross the forever burning bridge between the two most prominent romantic partners of his life.

“Please, my friends,” a calm, rational voice interceded finally, and Benton turned to see his adopted son step forward, waiting in the middle of the floor to gain everyone’s attention. The young Sultan caught and held Benton’s gaze, the searching look sending a feeling of shame through the scientist.

In hindsight, had Benton intervened before this moment, most of the arguments could probably have been avoided.

It was just so difficult. Alienating any one of these people was just one more loss on his plate. Jonathan was terrible enough to have lost the way he did, but to add anyone else would be salt in the wound.

Hadji seemed to sense his struggle, and the understanding in his eyes almost undid Benton’s composure.

Returning his gaze back to those assembled, Hadji spoke further in a quiet voice, “This is my American father’s wedding day. A day meant for rejoicing over the bond of marriage between he and Alena. No matter who is here or not here, no matter what disagreements we have with each other, surely the significance of this special day is more important. Please, let us put these things aside and stand united behind husband and wife.”

In the aftermath of such wisdom and the strength of character displayed, Benton admitted silently that Hadji Singh was born to be a Sultan. His tone was that of a noble king leading his subjects to unity in the face of crisis. The knowledge brought an unexpected wave of fondness and pride to Benton Quest, something he had not really acknowledged in quite some time.

Not one person responded to Hadji’s plea, but no more arguments occurred and even Irina looked slightly abashed, even if she still believed her own words.

No one spoke as they all packed up into their vehicles to head to the reception, and Benton preferred the silence.

The drive to the August Civic Center didn’t take long, but it was long enough for Benton and Alena to share a fully loaded silence right up until the car pulled in the drive of the civic center.

“He disapproves, then?” Alena eventually decided to say, quiet and pensive.

“Not of you,” Benton replied honestly. Jonathan’s actions still hurt and they still made him angry on some levels, but he could see it had not all been a selfish argument on his son’s part.

“He actually worried how you would feel if…” Benton tried to explain, but the subject felt almost like dirty laundry. Nevertheless, he pressed on bluntly, “if we spent years together and never really loved each other.”

“I see,” Alena responded simply, staring straight ahead for a long moment before she added even more quietly, “At least he thought out that much.”

Uncertain how to respond to such a statement, Benton remained mute as they exited the vehicle and he led Alena through the halls of the civic center.

“Congratulations to the newlyweds, Benton and Alena Quest!” Race called over the microphone, gesturing at the bride and groom. As per choice, Benton and Alena had agreed not to name the members of the bridal party. As public and formal as their wedding was, they still needed to implement some form of security measures, no matter how trivial, regarding the participants.

Heavy applause heralded their triumphal entry into the massive ballroom, Alena’s hand securely tucked into the crook of Benton’s arm as they walked in synchrony to the bridal table.

Where there were not gardenias along the lengthy table, there were a million exotic flowers to compensate the lack: bird of paradise, blue orchid, butterfly milkweed, blue passion flower, bleeding heartwine, blood lilies… Benton had spent a great deal of time letting Alena ply him with the names and appearances, even though he knew them from a scientific standpoint years ago.

Even if he had not, Rachel always loved flowers of every kind and talked incessantly about them. Exotics were actually a favorite of hers, although Benton suspected Alena was unaware of that information when planning their wedding. The two women may have been close friends since college, but even considering that, Alena would not have wanted her best friend’s favorites heralding her own nuptials to the same man. The awkwardness of merely thinking it, let alone actually saying it, made Benton’s head swim.

Thankfully, serving dinner to their grand reception crowd took foremost priority. Irina did seem ready to explode when she realized Jonathan and Jessie’s absences left two extra spaces at the table; two chairs she had forgotten to call and have removed before the audience took any further notice that there were two missing members of the bridal party. Amazingly, the young woman held herself in check; how well was anyone’s guess, but Benton could imagine how apoplectic she must have come close to behaving.

No matter how hard they tried, no one in the party talked much except Hadji and Sanjana. Even Race and Jade remained strangely quiet, a fact Benton felt unusually uncomfortable with. He wondered what they discussed in their car on the way over…

As the wedding toasts came closer and closer, Benton felt Alena’s tension increase even more than it already had. That confused the scientist, until he remembered Jonathan had been writing a speech. Another part of the wedding flung away without a thought, incensing Benton slightly. His son may have had a right to his own opinion, but to put such discordance in the events themselves was hardly fair of him.

Again shaking away the thought of their conflict, Benton turned to grasp his wife’s hand in some measure of reassurance. The tension did not leave her, but Alena did sigh with resignation and turn to speak with Irina about the missing speech. The pianist grew outraged once more, but a steady stream of discussion from Alena kept the young woman from losing it.

Sighing himself, the red-bearded inventor mercilessly tuned Irina out as she stood to propose a speech which would replace the one Jonathan was not there to offer. Even Race’s subsequent speech made no mark on Benton’s comprehension. The only thing that did mark his observation was Jessie’s presence at the reception; he had not expected that.

By the time the first dance was to occur, Benton nearly tuned out his wife, too. Patience seemed to become Alena, however, and she gave him time to come back to himself before rising from the table. The song played over the speakers did not sound the least bit familiar to Benton, but he turned the floor with his bride all the same as the music played on.

Given two songs – one for bride and groom, the other for the entire bridal party – Benton luckily completed his required participation on that front and Alena swept away to talk with people she knew. As for Benton, he quickly excused himself to the restroom as a reason to slip away for the moment. All he wanted was a chance to breathe.

Benton silently thanked Race for his security measures, taking appreciative notice of the clear hallways outside their chosen ballroom. He also thanked Race for teaching him well enough how to slip away from a crowd without being truly noticed, hence his relatively simple escape.

Finding a deserted corner of the hall to hide in, however cowardly that sounded, Benton sighed in relief. He hated publicity. Even worse, he hated gossips. Now he was stuck with a crowd chock-full of exactly those two things, and his relationship with his son the most likely topic of gossip to be had.

Grinding his teeth, the scientist pushed away from the wall and stalked the long wall he had stood against. No more than ten feet down that way, Benton heard the distinct sound of a heated conversation. Curiosity driving him, and his typical sense of propriety rapidly diminishing as he became more irritable, the red-haired man followed the voices further down – and further from the main hall in front of the ballroom.

To say he was surprised to find Jade Kenyon and Estella Velasquez standing a mere two feet apart in the middle of a recessed storage area, was to say altogether too little. As Benton moved back out of sight, the two women shared equally cold looks with each other, Jade’s face tinted with smug fire and Estella’s fists clenched at her sides as she spoke irascibly.

“You think I don’t see?” the redhead nearly growled at the other woman. “I don’t know how long you’ve known him, but I can guarantee you knew him before our divorce started to take shape.”

 “I don’t give a single care what you _see_ ,” Jade smirked angrily in return. “He’s with me. That’s all I care about.”

“The only things you care about are your own selfish ends,” Estella spit out furiously. “You did something. I don’t know what, but you did _something_ to make him leave. ”

Benton found himself unhealthily interested in the topic of the moment; he was one among them who knew a fair amount about the time surrounding Race and Estella’s divorce. By all accounts, even Race’s limited discussion, Estella had been nearly destroyed by the proceedings. To think Jade may have enabled the near-destruction of one of Benton’s closest friends was not a pleasant experience.

“Maybe he just got bored of playing house with you,” Jade retorted with a sneer. “God knows he had plenty of other candidates to pick from.”

“He never cheated.” Estella spoke with utter certainty, the strength in her voice actually bringing a tiny smile on Benton’s face. “That much I know.”

“Oh, cry on my shoulder,” Jade rolled her eyes sarcastically and turned away, heading away from Estella on swift feet.

The redheaded archaeologist stood in the same position, not bothering to stare after her antagonist as she attempted to gather her wits about her and calm down. Benton recognized the telltale signs of the stress and chaos Estella felt, but had difficulty controlling. Race Bannon had always been a tenuous subject at best, and to add in the presence of Jade Kenyon on top of it all did no favors for Estella’s admirable composure. This additional suspicion just blasted everything out of the water.

Sucking in a breath as he thought over his desire for a moment alone, Benton decided Estella’s need was greater than his and stepped from his concealed position. The sound of footsteps on the hard flooring drew the woman’s immediate attention, her head snapping towards him in a whirl of vivid red curls.

Seeing who it was, Estella relaxed infinitesimally and let out a harsh sigh. “I suppose you heard all of that… _conversation_?”

The last word conveyed so much sarcasm that Benton snorted as he replied, “I’m sorry for eavesdropping. But I was a little worried when I saw the two of you alone like that.”

“With good reason,” Estella admitted ruefully, although darkness crowded her attempt at wry humor.

“Do you really think she had something to do with the divorce?” Benton murmured regretfully, eyes carefully roving the eyes and expression of his companion.

“I feel it so strongly, Benton,” Estella breathed almost fearfully, latching a firm hand onto his forearm for support. “It never made any sense… the divorce, I mean. One day he just… told me he wanted a divorce. No questions, no attempt to fix whatever problems we might have had… just closing up shop like it didn’t matter. He shut me out so thoroughly I couldn’t break through his walls ever again. Even now, I still feel that tension I felt then; like he can’t possibly trust me to even speak honestly on the subject.”

While Benton knew from talks with Race that this wasn’t entirely true anymore, he had no illusions about Estella believing it. After the way their divorce played out, and the stormy path since then, Benton suspected the archaeologist might never again believe anything positive about her relationship with Race Bannon.

“Whatever happened,” Estella continued softly, green eyes lost in a haze of pain as she stared unseeingly at the place where her hand rested, “Race experienced something that made him insist on a divorce no matter how much it killed me… And it nearly did.”

Reaching up to grasp the slender hand resting on his arm, Benton grimaced unhappily at the information. Race had confirmed the idea years earlier, but it was no less disturbing to hear it now.

“I don’t know what happened any better than you,” Benton confessed sadly, squeezing his friend’s hand as reassuringly as he could. “Race never divulged anything beyond rudimentary facts and events from that time of your lives. Ever since I can remember having the gall to ask him about it, he’s only barricaded himself away from the subject. It seems to cause him a great deal of pain.”

“Of course it does,” Estella remarked bitterly, a frown overtaking her lovely face. “He’s in pain because of something I don’t even know I did. Something I can’t even begin to comprehend. And he would never tell me. Not then, not now.”

The topic of Jade’s possible intervention seemed to fade away in the face of everything Estella had experienced with her ex-husband. Benton wondered how much of that was deliberate and how much was a subconscious need on Estella’s part to insulate against pain.

“I’m sorry,” was all Benton could think to say.

Estella half-laughed at him with self-deprecating humor, a heartbreaking sound Benton despised; he heard it all too often over the years he had known Jessie’s mother. Silence pervaded their companionable, if sad, moment together.

With a probing look at her companion, Estella seemed to contemplate something before finally speaking quietly, “Are you happy, Benton? With this wedding… with Alena?”

A flurry of heated words crossed Benton’s mind, halting just as abruptly as he noticed the sudden tension in the redhead’s posture.

“Don’t be angry with me,” Estella begged him, cutting off whatever response he might have made. The pleading expression on her face stopped him from tuning her out. “Don’t be angry with your son, for that matter… You’re his father… and he just loves you. He doesn’t want you – _or_ Alena – to spend the rest of your life unhappy.”

There was not much Benton could say to that, having assured Alena of something similar on the ride to the civic center. Estella brought the matter even closer to home by assuring Benton of Jonathan’s care for his father, in particular.

Jonathan.

When was the last time Benton called him Jonny? He could hardly remember.

Rachel always loved the shorter name. Not simply because it was cute for a small child, but because Benton himself had given his baby boy the affectionate nickname before he was even a week old.

When and why had he stopped using it? No reason he knew of had perpetuated the change, not even the obvious signs of his little boy growing into a man in his own right.

“I don’t know why I’m so…” Benton searched for the proper word, but nothing conveyed what he felt.

“You’ve been… defensive, lately,” said Estella reluctantly, hesitant in a way she had never been with Benton before.

“Have I acted like that much of an ogre, Estella?” he questioned the woman, brows furrowed. “You seem afraid to even talk with me about it.”

“Considering the way you let your son walk away,” Estella remarked with some apology, although not much, “what would you expect of me?”

Benton groaned quietly at the intuitive accusation, growing increasingly disheartened at the way things transpired between him and his son.

“You shut him out, didn’t you?” the redheaded mother asked him, disappointment in her voice. “Because he realized you were only marrying Alena out of a fear of being alone.”

“He asked me why I was going to marry her,” Benton explained ever more quietly, shoulders dropping fractionally in resignation. “I told him the truth. He just couldn’t understand why I would marry her if I didn’t love her.”

“He reacted the way most people would,” Estella concluded stringently. “With surprise and confusion… You’re always so wise, Benton. Beneficent, even. The thought that you might not consider the ramifications of such a sensitive issue bothered your son. It… colored his view of you. I imagine that troubles you, even if you won’t admit it.”

Benton struggled not to snap some irritated comment at her, knowing she was not taking sides so much as being brutally honest. And he had to admit to a definite sore spot after the way his son accused him.

“That’s not the only thing you’re troubled about,” the redhead assumed correctly, judging the scientist’s awkward features with a keen eye.

“He said something…” Benton admitted reluctantly. “Something I… hope isn’t true.”

After a pause, laying her other hand on his arm as well, Estella prompted him, “What’s that?”

“He said Alena wouldn’t forgive me for this,” Benton baldly confessed, the thought more painful than he guessed it would be.

“You care more than you think,” Estella told him approvingly. “Although I do wish you would tell _her_ that.”

“I… I’ll do my best to explain it to her,” Benton agreed tentatively. Estella knew better than anyone what it felt like to be hurt by her husband’s lack of understanding, so he could hardly doubt her sincere desire to help him fix the marriage Benton now consigned he and Alena to.

Estella nodded acceptingly and changed the subject, “We better get you back. Irina might lose it this time.”

“Wait,” Benton stopped her from walking forward, keeping her hand ensconced in his own a moment longer.

Glancing up at him questioningly, Estella stopped to listen.

“The way you acted with him…” Benton had to speak up, looking down self-consciously at what would no doubt sound like jealous words, “you quelled his nervousness so easily. I was surprised by that.”

“I’ve become very close with Jonny,” Estella said simply.

“I know that,” Benton agreed just as plainly. “I was glad to see it happen over the years. He needed a mother in his life.”

“That he did,” Estella nodded once, sadness in her tone. “You seemed to approve. I would never have done it otherwise.”

“Better than that, Estella,” Benton added softly, “… _Rachel_ would have approved.”

Smiling genuinely for the first time that day, Estella patted Benton’s arm companionably. “Thank you for that.”

“Thank you for taking care of our son,” Benton murmured gratefully. “I’m just sorry I made such a mess of things here.”

“Maybe the two of you need this breathing space,” Estella considered thoughtfully, then shrugged. “To grow on your own.”

“You may be right,” Benton sighed disparagingly. “At the very least, I owe it to my son and my wife to be honest about this marriage. If I don’t take the time now, talking with my son would only start the same arguments again.”

“I hope it works out all right,” Estella consoled him. “I’m here if you need to talk.”

“Thank you,” Benton smiled. “Now, I think you’re right. Irina will be out for blood if I don’t get back.”

Estella laughed more happily this time, leading the way back to the reception.

As it turned out, Irina’s fury was indeed a near thing. Alena luckily had a sense for when Benton needed a moment, and they made it through unscathed due to her intervention. Benton actually felt rather surprised Alena had no suspicion about Estella’s intentions with Benton after so obviously spending a moment alone together. It was not as though Benton would not speak with Alena if he could, but their interactions had become incredibly one-dimensional in recent years; a fact he bereaved with sincere sadness. Still, it was a good thing Alena never seemed to doubt that Benton and Estella were anything more than very good friends.

Whatever the reason for it, Irina had no such trust, and Benton made his way very carefully through the rest of the night. He endured the cake cutting, bouquet toss, and farewell line with the barest of grace to keep tensions low.

Leaving behind the ridiculously overwhelming reception crowd as they slipped into the car never felt better to Benton, or Alena it seemed.

“I know I helped to plan it,” the former president said dryly of a sudden, startling Benton into glancing over at his bride’s wry expression, “but I am quite glad to be away from all those people now.”

Chuckling at the rare moment of honesty between them, Benton dared to reach out and grasp Alena’s thin hand in his own. Glancing up at him in surprise, the brunette smiled tentatively and squeezed the proffered hand with unusual warmth.

Benton wondered where their friendship had gone – that old camaraderie that shrouded his visit to Prague to investigate the golem incident, and the beautiful bond that encompassed Jonny and Jessie’s visit to the country for Irina’s musical debut.

Alena looked at him, then. Something in her eyes said she knew what he was thinking. Sadness settled over her gaze, but as swiftly as it came, the look disappeared and they were back to their formal, socially acceptable marriage. Benton immediately regretted the change.

When they arrived at the Maine Compound an hour later, Benton found himself tensing involuntarily at what he might find. How Jonathan would react… well, it was anyone’s guess.

Everyone had gone in ahead of them, Race and Hadji opening doors for the newly married couple and leading them into the family room.

Jonathan Quest was nowhere to be found, but Jessie Bannon waited as stiffly as a statue, a piece of paper clutched in her hands.

“He’s gone,” Benton heard himself say as if through water. The scientist felt his vision tunneling before Jessie even spoke, and as much anger as the young woman had felt, even she looked concerned at his suddenly pale complexion. Waving off concerns from Hadji and Race, Benton nodded for Jessie to say her peace. He had to hear this, one way or the other.

_“Hey guys,_ _” Jessie read, pausing to take a breath for strength. “I guess this is really it. I'm going. Not going away for a little while in order to clear my head for the hundredth time. This is permanent. I can't come back to what little is left of the family I used to know._ _”_

_Benton shivered at the words, remembering the way his son had often disappeared out to the cliffs, or the lighthouse, or even Bandit’s grave, to pick up the pieces after a stressful day. He used to come to Benton’s study to do that…_

_“Hadji, believe me_ _,” Jessie went on, bringing Hadji’s gaze up, “blood isn't always thicker. You're my brother, through and through, even though we can't spend as much time anymore. Responsibilities are a pain sometimes. You and Sanjana make an amazing pair to rule Bangalore. Tell Neela she's wonderful, as always._ _”_

_Hadji’s eyes gained a sheen of tears that would never fall, Sanjana reaching out to grasp his arm in comfort._

_“Race, I'm grateful you were there through everything. I don't like how you've neglected Jessie in recent years, but you weren't always that way._ _”_

_Jessie paused for a moment, and Benton wondered what went through her mind as she avoided her father’s equally apologetic and worried eyes. Before he could wonder further, those expressive green eyes turned on him, and he knew his turn had come._

_“Dad,_ _” Jessie murmured gently, as if aware her every word could destroy Benton, “I don't know how it happened, but we lost whatever bond there was between us._ _”_

_The words made their mark. Benton closed his eyes in pain at the very idea that he may have lost his son so thoroughly._

_“I’m sorry I disappointed you,_ _”_ _Jessie finished weakly. “I'm sorry I wasn't good enough. Be happy, okay? You deserve it after spending this long alone._ _”_

With a strangled breath, Benton tried process those words again in his head. Wasn’t _good enough_? His son thought he wasn’t _good enough_ for Benton?

_Be happy…_

Hadn’t Estella told him that was Jonny’s concern? Yet he had practically accused his son of sabotaging the marriage for selfish reasons.

_You’re my son, not my master._

Benton winced harshly at the memory of berating his own son like a criminal. He had so worried that his son’s ability to hide his emotions was a change in _Jonny_. When really, it was a change in _Benton_ – one Jonny tried very hard to acclimate to, tried to help Benton with. And he shut him out, just like Estella said he had.

What was wrong with him? How could he not know his boy after all this time?

There were no answers to these questions, and Benton barely listened as Jessie read out the last words his son had written.

_“Jess, I'm sorry for leaving you alone like this, but I can't stay. There's no place here for me anymore. You're the best friend I have and the one person who was always rock solid. Tell Estella she's the best. I'll miss you both, Ace… Jonny._ _”_

_Silent and dead described them all best in the wake of Jonny’s letter, and Benton wondered if he would ever again feel anything but shame. Estella actually cried silently across the room, leading Jessie to move over to her mother and hug her._

_Benton couldn’t breathe properly._  
  
Alena was speaking, her voice making some assurance or some comfort… but Benton didn’t understand it.

_His son was gone._  
  
More than anything else that had been spoken the entire day, two words – even above his wedding vows, the reception speeches, the terrible arguments, and even the deep discussion with Estella – just two simple words kept Benton’s brain as electrified as a lightning rod.

Two words held him captive and spread pain through every justified, rationalized, self-assured thought and emotion he had experienced about the wedding, his bride, and their families.

And about the only child of his brief, but loving marriage to Rachel Diane Wildey.

_"Please, Dad."_

Benton walked blindly to his old armchair near the fire – the one in which he had held his little boy through any number of traumas and hiccups, one where he had held his boy in comfort and understanding – and slumped down onto the seat almost regardless of Alena’s attempted support.

Benton Quest sat back in quiet, uninhibited thought for the first time that day… and grieved.

* * *

 


End file.
